


cold morning comforts

by thealienmeme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, ONCE AGAIN i am being self-indulgent, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), and i do not care, undeniably sweet sweet fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 20:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20936303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealienmeme/pseuds/thealienmeme
Summary: An angel and a demon wake up on a particularly cold morning in their cottage and remind themselves that the other is real and there and never leaving.





	cold morning comforts

**Author's Note:**

> FUN FACT: i wrote this because i started watching hannibal when i was in the house by myself and got scared so i thought to myself "why not write a little fluff to calm down?"

If you listened closely, held your breath and stilled your movements, you could hear the waves crashing against the shore. 

If you closed your eyes, let the cold autumn breeze tickle your skin, and opened your mind to seek out an aura belonging to this small coast, you would find one of overwhelming affection and love and adoration. And it would all be radiating from a small cottage, barely noticeable behind a patch of ivy and the shade of a large apple tree. 

There, under the warmth of many blankets, lay a demon and an angel. Or, rather, not-quite-a-demon and not-quite-an-angel. Their limbs were tangled and the heat had reached everywhere but their exposed faces. They were facing each other, of course, not willing to miss a moment of besotted gazing in the glimmer of the morning sunrise. 

“I love you,” Crowley whispered. 

Aziraphale smiled as he reached a hand out from underneath the blankets and ran his perfectly manicured, warmed fingertips down Crowley’s soft, cool face in response. Aziraphale traced the apple of Crowley’s cheek before sweeping his thumb gently under the demon’s eyes. 

Aziraphale wasn’t discovering - no, that had been done long ago, on the first morning after their first night together. Here, he was exploring. Familiar territory, but worthy of as many expeditions as he could manage. Expeditions that reminded him again and again and again that this was real and it wasn’t going anywhere. This demon was his. Probably always has been, if he was honest with himself. 

Aziraphale’s thumb moved lightly over a pale cheek, again, before coming to rest on Crowley’s lips. No pressure, no movement, just a feather-light touch. A smile in return. A dry, chaste kiss to the thumb. 

Crowley scooted closer to Aziraphale, a contented sigh sweeping across the angel’s face.  _ Of course _ the demon had the opposite of morning breath. He smelled of cinnamon and evergreens and like the perfect campsite on a beautiful summer evening. 

Aziraphale’s fingers absentmindedly continued their expedition, dancing lightly over Crowley’s jaw and landing on the spot right below his ear. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and tugged lightly while the rest of his fingers rubbed at the fire red strands of hair at the nape of Crowley’s neck. 

A shuffle of the sheets. 

“Angel…” Crowley breathed. 

Aziraphale smiled wider. He reached his other hand up to cup Crowley’s face, including, now, the side that was warm on the pillow, and placed a gentle kiss on Crowley’s nose. And then his cheek. And his forehead, and chin, and over his eyelids, and the spot right next to his ear, and finally landing on both corners of his mouth before pulling back to beam at the melted demon in his hands. 

“ _ Aziraphale _ …” Crowley said with a smirk in his tone but a pout on his face. 

“Yes, dearest, my love, light of my life?” Aziraphale said, not breaking his grin. 

“You missed a spot,” Crowley whispered, still pouting slightly. 

“Oh my, we can’t have that,” Aziraphale replied, grin softening. “Let me fix it.” 

Crowley was already leaning forward when Aziraphale met him in the middle. The kiss was soft and sweet and Aziraphale immediately felt his face warm up. They’d kissed approximately 397 times since they’ve moved into their little cottage in the middle of nowhere. And 478 times before that. Each time was just as thrilling as the first. 

When they pulled away, Crowley’s smile matched Aziraphale’s from earlier. 

_ I would do anything to keep that smile right there, on the face of this perfect being,  _ Aziraphale thought. 

Crowley moved his hand from under the blankets to softly squeeze Aziraphale’s forearm before moving to get up. 

“Where do you think you’re going, you slippery serpent?” Aziraphale huffed. 

“To make a certain fussy former Guardian of the Eastern Gate a nice hot cup of cocoa,” Crowley said, stopping in the doorway and raising his left eyebrow. 

The loss of an entire being full of body heat made Aziraphale shiver and wiggle deeper into the blankets. Crowley walked over to the bed, snapping a new blanket into existence, and wrapped it around Aziraphale, tucked him in further, kissed his forehead, and turned to exit for the kitchen once more.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called lightly. 

A sigh. “Yes, angel?” Crowley popped his head back into the room. 

“I love you, too.” 

A soft, crooked grin. 

“I know.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked this, check out my other fics! or follow me on tumblr (same username: thealienmeme) where we can all suffer together


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